


Echoes

by xanavici



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, let mercy say fuck, little bit of a widow character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 20:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18059546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanavici/pseuds/xanavici
Summary: The first emotion Amélie feels again is rage.It won't be the last.





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> My first femslash fic! This was supposed to come out two weeks ago for femslash feb but hey, better late then never right?

The first emotion Amélie feels again is rage.  

She knows that it was Talon that killed her husband all those years ago, that she might have been the one to slit his throat but they were the ones who hollowed her out until the only voice left inside her head was theirs.  She knows that, and she understands that, but does not care. Until she does.

Doctor Simmons summons her into her lab, strips her down, and starts the usual checkup.  She speaks into a recorder the whole time, making note of body weight, muscle tone, heart rate, and temperature.  She tests reflexes and memory and balance and flexibility. Amelia goes along with it because why should she not? 

“I am pleased to say that I believe my original hypothesis is wrong, that having the subject murder the person closest to her would create a strong emotional response that could possibly have a negative impact on her conditioning.  There has been no changes in emotional response or loyalty which bodes well for the treatment and could possibly be approved to be used on a wider scale in the near future. Or course it is also necessary to speculate that a strong emotional backlash never happened because the subject never felt anything significant for her target in the first place.”

Outwardly, the only thing that Amelia does is slightly cock her head to the side.  But on the inside, a fire ignites in her chest and sears the feeling of rage onto her heart.  How dare they say she never cared for Gerard, how dare they say she never loved him. She remembers she was devoted to him, and he to her.

The fire goes out as quickly at it was lit and by the time Doctor Simmons turns back around Amelia is a husk again.  Wordlessly and obediently she gets dressed again and leaves when she is dismissed. 

Wordlessly and defiantly she refuses to forget how the fire felt.

 

* * *

The second emotion Amélie feels is gratitude.

The new recruit pays too much attention to her right from the start.  She’s used to people staring with thinly veiled looks of horror or disgust but The Reaper’s look is more calculated.  Or that’s what she would guess is what’s going on under the mask. Occasionally she catches him observing her out of the corner of her eye, or hovering right within earshot, and she has a suspicion that for every time she catches him there are there’s countless more times she doesn’t.  He doesn’t do anything though which is why she doesn’t say anything to anyone. As long as he doesn’t compromise the mission why should she care?

It escalates six months after he joins with a piece of chocolate.  The rations they get on missions are pitiful, nothing more than calories needed to keep up their energy.  The only small concession they get is a small square of low quality chocolate. Amélie can still appreciate the sweetness of it to some extent but she also knows that it was once her favorite treat.  Her sweet tooth was something she constantly had to fight against when she was a dancer. A second square is wordlessly tossed on her lap and she looks away from the window of their safehouse just in time to see The Reaper walk away into another room to eat.

It happens again on the next mission, along with The Reaper taking the time to bandage up a graze wound on her upper arm.  She almost asks him what he’s doing because surely he was briefed that pain was a muted feeling for her and that all non-critical injuries could be taken care of after the mission by the doctors, but she doesn’t.

On the next mission The Reaper takes the first watch of the night.  Amélie spent all night jumping across rooftops and swinging through rafters, providing cover fire while The Reaper tore through the targets on the ground with brutal efficiency.  Exhaustion is an abstract concept for her but she can recognize that her reaction time is slowed and that her footsteps are heavier, so she doesn’t object and quickly falls asleep into a dreamless sleep.

When she wakes it’s to sunlight streaming through the window, illuminating a bone white mask sitting on the table.

“Do you remember him?  Gerard?” The Reaper turns and asks.  Amélie can’t be surprised by the face of Gabriel Reyes, but it is definitely unexpected.  “I said do you remember him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you miss him?”

Yes.  

But Amélie doesn’t say that because if she misses him then they’ll make her forget him and they’ll make her forget her rage.  She doesn’t say anything but Gabriel must see it anyways because he turns back to the window and says, “Talon will pay for what they did to him, and to you, and for everyone else they’ve took.”

Silence stretches across the small room.  Amélie should get up and call headquarters and inform them of The Reaper’s betrayal, but something stops her.  A gentle, warming caress across her heart.

“Thank you.”

Amélie has been forced to say those words before, to the doctors that stitch up her wounds and to the leaders of Talon when she’s dragged in front of them, but this is the first time it’s actually felt genuine.  This is the first time in a long time she actually means it.

And maybe that’s why, two years later, when Gabriel tells her that Talon is about to be burned to the ground and he asks her to come with him, she says yes.

 

* * *

The third emotion Amélie feels is grief.

She never got a chance to grieve for Gerard after it happened, she had already been hollowed out by then, and then so many years past that she forgot about it.  That’s why it blindsides her so hard when it finally surfaces and overwhelms every nerve in her body.

Overwatch is different than she remembers.  It’s smaller, more disorganized, more personal, more caring. That last aspect is spearheaded by Angela Ziegler.  Amélie remembers the beautiful doctor from back then as well. She had once jokingly asked Gerard if she was allowed to cheat on him with her.  He had joked right back only if he was allowed to do the same with Gabriel. 

Doctor Ziegler is so much different than the doctors back at Talon, she tells Amélie everything she’s going to do, asks for permission, tells her she has a choice and can decline any procedures.  Amélie doesn’t quite understand that so she just agrees to whatever Doctor Ziegler seems particularly concerned about. She does ask for a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt though. Her old suit feels… restrictive and like it doesn’t quite fit anymore and these are much better to sleep in.

When Amélie wakes up in the middle of the night three weeks after her arrival she doesn’t understand what’s happening.  Her chest feels tight, her breath is uneven, her hands tremble and- and she’s crying? Then she remembers she actually had a dream for once and it was about that night.  She remembers Gerard’s betrayed look and how he reached for her face with a shaky hand, only getting halfway before it fell back down onto the bed. She remembers how unnatural it felt not to scream or cry.  She remembers how the only thing she felt was a gaping emptiness and a hollow indifference.

“Amélie!”

The voice of Doctor Ziegler startles her as much as hearing her own name said with so much concern and care.

“Amélie, breathe.  Here,” Doctor Ziegler picks up her hand and holds it against her chest.  “Breathe with me.” Amélie follows the slow, deep breaths and feels the tension in her chest gradually lessen.  Her breath still hiccups and he hands still shake slightly but it’s much more manageable.

“Are you okay?  Are you hurt?” 

Amélie shakes her head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She almost says no out of habit, but then realizes she does want to say something, anything.

“I- I killed him.  And now he is dead and I will never see him again and I did not care and-”

As her words quicken and her breath shortens again, Angela wraps her up in a hug and holds on tight.  

“He’s gone.  He’s gone!”

“It’s not your fault.  It’s not your fault, Amélie,” Angela whispers and repeats over and over again as she softly rocks back and forth and holds Amélie together with just the strength of her arms.

Emotions hurt.  Amélie forgot that.  She wishes she could forget it again.

 

* * *

The fourth emotion Amélie feels is comfort.

Two months after arriving at Overwatch Angela declares her mostly healthy and mostly safe and lets her have her own room.  She chooses one at the end of the hallway farthest away from everyone else. It’s quiet and no one bothers her which is probably best.  

To say everyone was wary of her would be putting it kindly.  Hanzo Shimada fears her the least, and his looks are mixed with a small degree of understanding.  Lena Oxton hates her the most and everytime she looks at her she scowls, then winces like she forgets that she’s not supposed to be angry, but can’t quite accept that.  So she stays out of their way, she takes walks around the base, and trains with them when she needs to before returning to her quiet.

Amélie takes lots of walks on the base.  She gets to wear her soft clothes, the sun feels warm on her skin, the ocean waves sound rhythmic in a steadying way, and no one else walks this far out.  Which is why seeing someone else out here is unexpected.

Amélie rounds a corner to find Angela leaning against a railing, shoulders tense, ponytail an uncharacteristic mess, and with a cigarette dangling between her fingers.  Interesting, considering how much she chastises the man Gerard once called “Gabriel’s heir apparent” for doing the same thing. She brings the cigarette up to take a long drag from it and holds the smoke in while she runs a hand through her disheveled hair, releasing it in one long sigh and dropping her forehead into her hand.

It takes a moment for Angela to realise she’s being watched but once she realises Amélie is there she jumps in surprise.  Her eyes dart guiltily to the cigarette still burning but then she shrugs and goes back to leaning against the railing.

“Promise you will not tell anyone?”

Amélie walks over and leans on the railing next to her.  “I thought I heard you say those things will kill you. Multiple times.”

“Yes well, what’s the saying?  Do as I say, not as I do?” Angela huffs out a laugh and takes another small drag. “Besides, you try taking care of a team of self-sacrificing idiots that all have a hero-complex or a redemption-complex or both.  The fact that I manage to keep myself at one per day is the real fucking miracle.”

Angela waves the cigarette around as she talks and Amélie catches the scent of vanilla and oranges.  It’s… nice. Without thinking she plucks it out of Angela’s fingers and takes a drag for herself. It stings her lungs and makes her mouth go dry but it’s nice.  She hands it back to Angela who looks a little surprised, but doesn’t chastise.

Amélie came out here with the intention of finding solitude but she thinks this is better.  It’s calming and peaceful. It’s comfortable.

“Amélie?” Angela says after a long quiet moment.  “I probably know the answer to this already but… Are you worried about tomorrow?”

“No.” Amélie doesn’t hesitate when she says it.  Even if she could feel it, there’s no place for fear when taking down Talon once and for all.  Fear means hesitation, and hesitation means doubting that this is the right course of action. There is nothing wrong with making Talon pay.

Angela takes one last drag of her cigarette then stubs it out and tucks the butt into the pocket of her lab coat.  She doesn’t leave right away though. She takes a deep breath, hesitates, then turns to face Amélie. 

“Can you promise me something?  I have so many people to look after out there and I- I don’t want to lose you again.  So please, be careful?”

Amélie looks at Angela, really looks at her.  She sees the faint bags under her eyes and the stress lines between her brows.  But she also sees the laugh lines around her mouth and the steadfast determination in her eyes.  If Angela lost those that would be the real tragedy.

“I promise.”

Amélie thinks she actually means it.

 

* * *

The fifth emotion Amélie feels is love, or the beginnings of it.  At least she thinks that’s what it is.

She remembers that even when she could feel everything, love was the hardest one to figure out, the hardest one to identify and be sure of.  Even seeing examples of it all around her isn’t that helpful. She sees it in McCree’s face every time Hanzo sits down far too close to him to fool anyone.  She hears it in Tracer’s voice when she’s on a video call with her girlfriend in the Rec room. She tasted it when Doctor Zhou experiments with her cupcake recipe to make them more workout compatible, just for Zarya.  Amélie sees all of this but it doesn’t help.

Things quiet down after they take down Talon.  They let the UN and local governments clean up the stragglers that didn’t go down with the ship while they brave the media storm that erupted after the rebirth of Overwatch was so clearly on display.  

Amélie does her best to stay away from all of that.  She put down her rifle for the last time after Talon was taken care of so she has no reason to go out on missions where the other get bombarded with questions every time, without fail.  The extra free time has given her time to make frequent trips out to her family home to start removing every trace of Talon from it. It’s also given her extra time to spend with Angela who goes into overdrive to heal her.  She thinks it might be working. It’s hard to tell. Though she does take a page out of Hanzo’s book and cuts all her hair off into a short bob and she knows for a fact that that was a good decision.

The wind ruffles her hair right now as she stands on the balcony of her house, looking over the lake, with an excellent vintage of wine in her hand.  In the courtyard below the young soldier D.Va tinkers with her meka and every so often tells Genji to hand her something. Some sort of emergency had the team of three making an emergency stop on their way back from the Black Forest and laying low while Winston fixed whatever it was.  Amélie though she would mind more than she does, having those two loudmouths running around her house, but that’s maybe because the third member of their squad makes up for it.

“Oh, there you are.  I was hoping we hadn’t chased you out of your own home.” 

Amélie glances over her shoulder and smiles just a little bit when she sees Angela walk through the door.  “It would take more than that to scare me. There are some glasses in that cabinet.”

Angela grabs a wine glass then joins Amélie on the balcony.  Her glass is filled with a practiced familiarity that was learned in Angela’s office with coffee mugs and much cheaper bottles of wine every time after Angela came back from a mission, and sometimes when they just felt like it. 

“Oh my god.  This is amazing!” Angela grabs the bottle and reads the label.  “A ‘24 Cheval Blanc? How much is this worth!?”

“I have no idea, Gerard was the one who bought this.  He bought two bottles actually, we drank the first one after I finished my run in La Bayadere then promised to save the second for something special.”

“Oh,” Angela puts her glass down and slides it away.  “Then I shouldn’t-“

“Angela, there is no one I rather share this with.”  Angela’s shock turns into a smile and Amélie returns it with a toast.

When she asked Hanzo, he said being with McCree was like lightning running through his veins, he could do anything as long as they were side by side.  When she asked Satya she said that Sombra made the world a little less noisy and harsh. Amélie doesn’t feel either of those things, but she does feel lighter, and she thinks her heart beats just a tic faster, and this doesn’t feel at all like what she remembers, but she thinks it’s the same.

A lifetime ago Amélie would have gone straight for the kill, figuratively speaking.  She would have said a romantic confession or kiss, she would have wasted no time getting what she wanted.  But now? She’s unsure. She doesn’t know. It’s a frustrating thought that has her frowning for a split second, but Angela catching it anyways and asking what’s wrong.

“I don’t… I don’t know.  I don’t know what I am feeling and I don’t know if it is what I think it is.”

Angela puts down her glass and lays a hand on Amélie’s arm.  “Well, what  _ do _ you know?”

“I… I feel calm, relaxed, like I don’t have to worry about anything.  I feel lighter and like my heart is trying to beat faster but it can’t quite. But I also feel this hesitation, like I shouldn’t feel this.  That I don’t deserve it and that it will only end badly and I-”

“Do you want to know what I feel?” Angela asks, cutting Amélie off before she can spiral.  

She nods.

“I feel so proud that someone I care for deeply has overcome so much and at the end of the day is so good.   I feel warm and like I can fly away when I see her smile and once again become the person I know she remembers she is.  I feel ice in my chest when I think about the possibility of her not knowing how much I care for her.”

Amélie suddenly becomes aware of how Angela’s hand has slid down to cover her own, and how comforting and calming it actually is.  She looks back up and sees the openness in Angela’s eyes and she realises that she doesn’t need to know for sure. All she needs to know is that this is what she wants, more than she’s wanted anything in the past year.

Amélie turns her hand over and threads her fingers with Angela’s with a squeeze.  She smiles, and smiles a bit more when Angela’s face lights up and shifts to stand pressed up against her before picking her wine back up.

Amélie doesn’t know if this is love, but it might eventually be.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @cryptidhanzoshimada  
> Find me on twitter @xanavici


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